


Dawn

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: The Dragon of the West seeks the Masters Ran and Shaw for the second time after the siege.Iroh, after his first attempt at conquering Ba Sing Se.





	

The Chief of the Sun Warriors stares at him, and Iroh knows that he must be a sight, on his knees like this, half coherent, still wearing the officer’s uniform and armor that he fled the siege in, stained with blood. (So _much_ blood—at least some of it Lu Ten’s _he held his son’s bloody body as the life left it_ —but some of it also probably his own, also probably his men’s, also probably Earth Kingdom soldiers’, also probably also Earth Kingdom civilians’, Air Nomads’, dragons’...There is _so much blood_ on his clothes, his hands, all of him, there is _so much blood_ on him…)

“I must see the Masters,” he says desperately. “Ran and Shaw—Please, I must see them!”

The Chief eyes him up and down, creases his eyebrows, seems to consider, but then relents. “Well, then, come on…” He pauses, as if he plans to use Iroh’s honorific, call him _Prince_ or _General_ , but he doesn’t. 

Iroh is grateful.

The walk to the First Fire seems shorter than Iroh remembers, and this time, the Chief doesn’t give Iroh any instructions. He doesn’t need to. Iroh bows his head, extends his hand, cups it around the fire that the other man places in it. 

“You know what to do,” says the Chief, and Iroh nods.

His walk to the Temple of the Masters is half slow and laborious (he feels so much older than he did a week ago, and it shows in his body) and half rushed (the sooner he gets there, the sooner it will be over, the sooner it _all_ will be over…) When he finally arrives and his flame is distributed among the Warriors, when he hears the drummers and chanters, he pauses, breathes, looks down at the blood on his uniform. _These people, too. All their customs, all their civilization...Their blood, too_...

Then, he pushes his weary bones up the ancient stone staircase. _It is almost over. It will all be over soon...Lu Ten, I will see you soon..._

When he reaches the platform at the top, he holds half the fire in each hand, extends it toward the cave. As the Masters burst forth from their respective dwelling places, Iroh doesn’t bother performing the Dragon Dance. Instead, he sinks to his knees, closes his eyes, waits…

There is heat, suddenly. But not enough. Iroh opens his eyes to see, as before, the pillar of magnificent flame around him, but not touching him…not close enough…

“I do not understand,” he murmurs. “I thought...you deserve... _I_ deserve…I do not deserve your favor.”

_You wanted us to kill you, Prince Iroh?_

The voice seems to come from within the fire itself, and Iroh winces hard at the use of his proper title. “It is what I deserve.”

_Is that so? Why not do it yourself?_

“My people have the blood of millions your kind on our hands...It would be justice for you to slay me in recompense.”

 _This is a coward’s answer. You wanted to do it yourself, but you lack the courage. Is_ this _really the famed Dragon of the West?_

“I never gave myself that title.”

_No, it was given you, after you claimed to have killed us._

“Only to protect you! If my people had known you were alive, they would have stopped at _nothing_ to slay you both…”

_So you lied. You spared us, and now we shall spare you._

“No! I...I do not deserve it…”

_You do not deserve it, or you do not wish it?_

“Perhaps both. Even without yours, there is too much blood on my hands.”

_This, too, is a coward’s answer._

“I have never claimed not to be a coward!”

_You are not a coward, Prince Iroh. You are many things, but this is not one of them._

“I _am_! Because I cannot live with what my Nation has done! What _I_ have done! And yet, when I tried to bring myself to account, I was too weak…”

_Or you sensed that you have not yet fulfilled your destiny._

“I no longer have faith in such things! I believed my _destiny_ was to conquer Ba Sing Se! And what did that bring? Millions dead! Both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation...my son…”

_It brought you to see the blood your Nation has shed. And understanding is the first step in restoring the honor of your people, and restoring balance to the world._

“My people have no honor. We bring only death and destruction wherever we go.”

_You yourself know that is not the case. You hold the gift of Fire. You, perhaps alone among your people, know of its true worth._

“I am not the sun. I do not bring life. I see now that I have only ever brought _death_ …”

_You and your people are descended from the Sun Warriors. You can bring life again…_

The image of Lu Ten’s body passes through his mind yet again, and he is desperate, desperate... “ _How?!_ ”

And the fire around him crackles in a way that sounds like chuckling. _We live far away from the world and your people. We cannot say how. But we dragons taught the Sun Warriors to hold Life in their hands, to create it, bend it. You are a dragon, Dragon of the West; teach your people to do the same._

“My son…”

_Your son is dead. But it is up to you whether or not his death was in vain._

He opens his mouth to say more, but the Masters have closed theirs. The flame is gone, and the dragons swoop around him back to their caves, billowing his hair and his clothes with the gust of wind they create. 

He doesn’t move right away; he doesn’t know how long he stays there. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. And Iroh only realizes that he is still kneeling when he hears the Chief call up to him.

He descends, thanks the Chief and his people with several bows, leaves the village. He cannot go home, back to the Capitol, to the Palace, to his Father’s court, not yet. There are things he needs to learn first, grieving he must do first, answers he must find. But he _will_ go back, and he _will_ teach them, remind them of what they really carry in their flames. 

(He’ll be their Fire Lord. They will listen.)

But for now, he’ll wander. He bends a flame in his hands, feels it pulse. He thinks of his own heartbeat, of his son’s. Of the heartbeat his boy held in his hands the first time he produced a flame. 

Lu Ten cannot carry that Life in his hands any longer. But Iroh can.

Iroh will.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I live for comments!


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